“Well, sir, there was a jet of steam, and that unfortunate monkey was blown up about twenty feet into the air, and came down on the deck, stone dead, with every hair singed off him. He looked just as if he had been through the barber’s hands, and was preparing to go to church. The boy picked him up, carried him to the captain, and got his ten dollars. We did not have any more monkeys on the ship after that.”
UNHAPPINESS OF DOGS.
Pet dogs are sometimes kept in mines, but they soon lose their activity, and appear so unhappy that the miners, out of pity for them, take them to the open air again. I once saw a dog that had been kept a fortnight in a silver mine, without once seeing daylight. I happened to be at the entrance when he was brought to the surface, and never did I see a dog manifest more joy than did this one. As soon as he was placed on the ground, saw daylight, and snuffed the clear, open air, he ran about, jumping first upon one and then upon another of the miners, and seemed to thank them for his release from prison. He kept this up for a quarter of an hour, and then he darted about in wide circles, running at the very top of his speed, and paying no heed to anybody. He ran in this way until fairly exhausted, and then came up to his master, and lay down at his feet. His master then endeavored to coax him into the cage, to descend the shaft again, but the dog would not move. As his master stepped into the cage, he tried to call him down, but the dog turned, and ran away. He had had quite enough of underground life.
I have seen dogs that had been kept a long time on shipboard act in just the same way when going on land. Sailing once from San Francisco, across the Pacific Ocean, we picked up, just before our departure, two small dogs—one a Skye terrier, and the other a black and tan. For the first few days they were not in love with sea life, but before we had been a week on our voyage, they were accustomed to it, and wandered around the ship at will. They made friends with everybody. The black and tan had the run of the main cabin, but the Skye lived forward with the men. The two dogs played together a great deal. The black and tan would go forward, and apparently invite the Skye aft. He would come, and they would play about the deck; but he never ventured into the cabin. He appeared to know his place, and kept it very carefully.
Twenty-four hours before we sighted land, when it was more than a hundred and fifty miles away, those dogs began to sniff the air uneasily, and rather wistfully indicated that they knew we were approaching shore, and that they wanted to get upon it. But when we entered harbor, they did not manifest any particular wish for the land; and though they looked around the deck, and off towards the shore, they showed no desire to seek it.
It was morning when we came to anchor, and we immediately made our official visits, and returned to the ship about noon. Opposite our anchoring-place there was a partially wooded point, which, we thought, would give us a pleasant promenade; and so, in the afternoon, four of us went ashore, taking the dogs with us.
TAKING THE DOGS ASHORE.
They were reluctant to get into the boat, and the sailors were obliged to carry them down the gangway stairs to the boat, and put them ashore when we touched land. But as soon as they had touched it, and realized that they were on solid earth, they began to caper and run about in the most extravagant way. I think that before we had walked a mile those dogs had run at least ten miles, and had examined, in their canine way, every bush, and tree, and shrub in the region. Several dogs of ten times their size were wandering about, but these little brutes gave chase to them as readily as though the strangers had been rats. When they came back to our landing-place, they did not want to enter the boat, and we had to carry them in.
After that, whenever a boat went ashore, there was no occasion to invite the dogs or urge them to go. The very first instant they saw any preparations for leaving the ship, they would descend the gangway, and enter the boat; and if driven back, they would look wistfully over the side, and sometimes fairly howl with sorrow. On two or three occasions, when we allowed them to descend to the foot of the gangway stairs, and pushed off without them, they jumped into the water, and followed us.